Bui Doi  The Dust of Life
by Brindabella
Summary: Tom Croydon. The foundation on which Mt Thomas was built on. This story is about Tom's station, his town, his career but mostly, about his team.
1. Chapter 1

Date began: May 29, 2006

Date finished:

Dedication: For the cast, and the crew, of the show we love so much

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to the writer. They remain property of Channel 7 and Southern Star.

Song Credits: Mental As Anything, Missy Higgins

Note: Hey fellas! I decided to take the plunge and attempt a Tom fic. Not often done is it? Anyways, this fic is a look back at Blue Heelers as a whole, through the eyes of the Boss. It most likely won't have any new storylines…just a look back at the old ones, and at the characters. So if anything sounds familiar it's because you've seen it in an ep! I get the feeling it could turn out to be very long, as we do have 13 seasons to cover here, and so perhaps I will post it in season by season chapters! Anyways, enjoy…and leave feedback please!

© Riss 2006/2007

Bui Doi – The Dust of Life

I wanted this posting so much, I think I built up my expectations higher than I should have. Because when we first settled back here, Nell and I, and Mt Thomas was officially my home base, it didn't feel as good as I thought it would. I had a fine bunch of colleagues, a great sergeant, and it was always smooth sailing. But maybe that was the problem. So it wasn't until 1990, by which time I was a sergeant, that I finally felt settled in the job. I had Nick and I had Wayne, and they were both good blokes. I could rely on them.

Then we got PJ. Suddenly my little Mt Thomas was expanding. I was surprised, but not afraid. If we needed a CI, then we needed a CI. And PJ seemed like a good enough sort of a bloke. Bit high and mighty – you get that when they've come from the city, and all us country folk have a good chuckle at them their first week in town. Then they settle in. I admit, it took PJ a bit more than a week to settle in, but I forgave him. He had that drive that we all have, except he wasn't content to let it fester inside him in private. He made sure we all knew that he wanted to be macho man detective. Over the years, he settled down, and we grew to have a fantastic friendship. He grew into one of the most respected and admired detectives in the business. Everyone should learn how to be a detective from PJ.

So for almost six years it was a boys club. Nick, Wayne, PJ and I. We got things done, and every night congratulated ourselves with a beer at the bar. Never did we think our testosterone levels would be beat down by one little blonde constable, like all the others, fresh from the hustle and bustle of the city. But she walked into this town and changed it forever. At first I used to think it wasn't for the better. But now she's gone, I know it was.

PJ told me he pulled her over for no other reason than she was the lucky one that day. Nick tells a very different story. It wouldn't surprise me if he knew from that very first day that Maggie and PJ would end up having the relationship that they did. He's good like that – knows what you're thinking before you do. In typical PJ style, he pulled her over, tried to act the suave debonaire fella and looked down at her through his aviators. She responded just as spritely and half promised to allow him to buy her a drink that night at the pub. And the rest, as they say, is history. She spat vodka all over him, and there was the beginning of a match made in heaven (and sometimes hell!).

I am Mr Natural

You can call me Mr Natural

But before all that happened, she came to see me. I'd just got off the phone to Henry Roberts wife, who told me her husband was about to shoot Ted Clarkson's bull. Henry and Ted had never gotten on, for as long as I'd known them, so it wasn't the best idea to have them as neighbours. But that they were, and when they had their rifles out everyone should've taken cover. So for this little blonde thing to come knocking on the door of my station when I was needed out there to stop these two mad farmers, I was not in the best of moods, and did not have much patience to deal with her.

"What can I do for you girlie?" as soon as I'd said it I wanted to take it back because I could hear Nell's voice in the back of my head telling me how derogatory it felt to be called girlie. But Maggie Doyle didn't bat an eyelid. I had to laugh when she told me she was most certainly not a girlie, and that she was my new constable. I have to admit – I was hoping for another bloke. Then the boys and I could continue our fine traditions with someone who understood us.

Then she broke the really bad news. Pat Doyle's daughter. I should've known that old dinosaur would get revenge on me one day. I was just hoping it wouldn't be that day. But there she was, standing in front of me, looking all of about 15, with her strawberry blonde hair and her red parka eager to leap into the world of crime. Oh she had a lot to learn, and not just about the police force.

And I plonked her right in it. Her first day I nearly had a coronary when she admitted she'd shot four nice big holes in the four wheel drive. Could she have done anything worse? It ticked me off that Wayne stood up for her so much, but I suppose I should've expected it. He always stood up for his mates. One of the best attributes he had. Still, I was wary of Maggie, no matter how much Wayne tried to talk her up, and no matter how much I knew anything made by Pat Doyle would be good. As I leant back in my chair and rubbed at my eyes that day Doherty's dog met a terrible death, I forced myself to give her a chance. I had to, or else this would never work. So I let it go. I didn't blow my top at the both of them. I had to let them show me what else they were made of.

Wayne showed me what he was made of time and time again every time he put on that uniform. I didn't realise how much of a bond I'd formed with my little crew until one of them was in danger. The day Wayne was shot knocked some sense into me. These kids were my flock. They were like my own. And I had to take better care of them. I even extended my wing to shelter Mrs. Patterson too – she was as much a part of the team as my Nell was. It was probably about then that I started to neglect Nell though. But when Wayne was shot, I am ashamed to say the last person I was thinking about was Nell.

Over my years in this job I've come to realise what a secret society we are. Well, maybe not secret…more of a little religion. We're one of a kind. We look out for our own. And because we all do the same thing day in, day out, we know how each other thinks. We can anticipate reactions. We can read minds during a pursuit. We can jump in at just the right moment and save a colleague from a bullet. So when one of us is hurt, we all feel it. I tried to explain it to Roz once upon a time – Wayne's teetering with the dangerous side of police work and football time and time again – when he was shot we all felt vulnerable. It could just as easily have been one of us. She couldn't understand, the way no police wife or girlfriend or daughter or son can understand our dedication to our jobs, despite the danger they entail, but I tried, with everything I had, to convince her that he knew what he was getting into everyday when he came to work, and I admired him that courage. We all did.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes though, us coppers, we can't understand each other. That's because there are two kinds of cops – the good ones and the bad ones. The good ones can't understand the bad ones and the bad ones try not to understand the good ones, because then they'd just feel even more guilty than they already do. Once, just once, I darted between the good and the bad. Looking back I can't believe I ever did it. I hate myself for it. But when you're young (and stupid) and the pressure is on you to prove yourself and you're taught to do things the way those above you did it, you don't really think twice about following an order. If your sergeant tells you to give that guy in the interview room a bit of a thump, then you do it. It's what you've been told to do, and you, as the newest and youngest, always do as your told.

I stood in front of Clive Ostroff for at least ten minutes before I could even move. We didn't talk. But I think he knew what was going to happen. I almost chickened out. This wasn't me. No matter what things were like even then, I knew it wasn't right. Sure, I was angry that he'd killed Beccy, but would beating him to a pulp help the situation? I couldn't consider it, I just had to do it. I didn't enjoy it though.

It wasn't long after that Maggie got herself into hot water – again. I couldn't blame her. It was an ethical spin, and a stupid one at that. But it was the way things had to be. If I'd been feeling horrible that day I would've told her that she had to move out of the pub sometime, and now was as good a time as any. But I couldn't say that to her face. The poor thing was crushed. Ted Faulkner can be a bastard sometimes. It was good that Maggie had Pat with her during the whole debarcle. As much as I couldn't stand the bloke, I knew he was what she needed. Funny how people always turn to Pat Doyle in times of trouble. He always knows what to do. This wouldn't have been the first time Maggie had needed his help – nor would it be the last. Over the years I saw a lot of Pat Doyle in my town, but I could never be too upset about it because he was always there to fix something. And he helped Maggie move out of the pub and into her own place, and he got her nice and settled. I was glad. Even though I never said it to anybody but Maggie, even in that first year, she was already beginning to feel like a daughter. She merged silently into my third child, blissfully unaware of it the whole time. It was not until six years later, that late night in the station, that I told her so.

She cemented herself as my golden girl even more when Nell died. Nell…God I miss her. I still curse whatever force it was that took her away from me. It's why I don't have faith in anything higher up anymore. What sort of God would let Nell die and some scum of the earth criminals I've seen live? It's not fair. It never has been. And I really couldn't function for a while afterwards. I know it looked like I was – I put it on for Susan, and for the funeral and for everyone at the station, because men don't cry. But the day that Maggie came to visit me, a bunch of violets in her hand, it seemed like the only thing I could do was cry. Nothing else really came out. It was the gut reaction, and I couldn't fight it. It felt nice that someone cared. The brass tried to make it look like they cared, giving my Nell a funeral with full honours, all salutes and dress uniforms, but to me it meant little. It couldn't bring her back…or make it feel like she'd died for a reason. Because she'd died before her time. Before she was meant to.

And if I listen to the sound of white

Sometimes I hear your smile

And breathe your light

When I was sort of over it – I don't think I will ever be fully over it – I went back to work. And I didn't just go back. I threw myself back in. Anything to take my mind off the fact I slept alone at night, and that Nell wouldn't be there when I got home, taking a casserole out of the oven or organising the latest CWA meeting. It hurt…still does. But police work numbs it a bit. It's been my anesthetic for years.

I'm sure I felt your fingers through my hair


	3. Chapter 3

I remember when Maggie was knocked out that day at the gym. I wasn't there, but it must've been a hell of a brawl. And it was by the accounts I got from the others. They say she went straight down, in the blink of an eye. Hard to imagine, but then also very easy to picture. Doyle was the rose among so many thorns with us blokes. We all looked out for her, protecting her and being the best mates she needed, and we disguised it by taunting her and getting her mad every chance we got. It was just the way things were. I'm sure Maggie would've had a laugh at it if she'd been given the chance. But Maggie Doyle flew through her life day by day, never allowing herself a single moment to reflect. Lucky too, because when she did actually give herself a second to do just that, it usually ended up as complicated as hell.

So I was surprised to find out the boys had let her be the one knocked out. Probably couldn't have been avoided I know, but I was still surprised. Every day I expected PJ…or Adam…or Wayne to come back to me with a black eye. Not Maggie. But Maggie was prone to rush in where angels feared to tread and so down she went. I knew I was right about the boys though – they rallied around her, their little sister, the one they protected from the vultures. They stroked her hair and held her hand as we waited for the ambos to arrive. She was always in good hands with the people in this police station.

I know how it feels to go down. The day that Dean Shipley shot me won't be forgotten for a while. It's really hard to describe what it feels like to be shot, so you can't understand until it's happened to you. I can remember more about it than people would think – Dean's slurred words, that look in his eye, his unshaven face, his lunatic like squeal "Oh you've got a gun! Oh you've got a gun!". Then falling back, clutching my wound, slamming into the floor. I'd gone into that pub with every ounce of me so sure he would never shoot me. Like I said to the brass – he was just a kid, and I'd coached him for years in the juniors. A coach knows everything about his players. So I thought I knew everything about Dean Shipley. But people change. Lives change. And people like Dean turn from little Energizer bunnies on the footy field to drug addicted crims with shotguns stashed in their sports bag along with their boots.

The look that was in his eyes that day'd scare anybody I reckon. Even the hardest of cops. Of course, no one would ever let on that it scared them, because we're supposed to be strong and unaffected by anything. But you'd be lying if you said you saw that look in a crims eyes and didn't shudder inside, even if just for a quick moment. I did, but I put on my coach voice and tried to get through to him. But sometimes words just don't work. They don't like to admit that at the Academy nowadays but it's the truth. When some crazy bloke has that look in his eye, it's never going to end nicely.

I laid in my hospital bed for the next week after that, bored out of my skull and hanging out for some normal human company. I passed the time by picturing what was going on in the station while I wasn't there to oversee the bedlam. Everyone would've been working in over drive, powered by pure anger. They would've all stopped at nothing to catch Dean – the desire to avenge my shooting would've kept them going for a lifetime, I know. It gets cops back up anytime one of their own is hurt. Sort of makes you glad you're apart of such a force and know that there are so many people out there who'll always stick by you. One of the best things about the police force. I've always said that.


	4. Chapter 4

Wasn't much later we had one of our many run ins with the Kenny's. Can't say I ever enjoy our dealings with them. But this particular time was something major. And it all started with Wayne. Sometimes I wondered if all Wayne was put on this earth for was to attract women, because he always managed to do plenty of it. And so maybe getting married so young wasn't the best idea. But he and Roz had always seemed like a good couple, and when they split we all saw how much it affected him. Wayne was sort of like PJ – never willing to let how he felt be out in the open. So she went to the train station, they said goodbye, and that was that. Wasn't the nicest ending one could've hoped for, but then their marriage was in tatters – what could be nice about that? From in my office I watched him call her everyday. She wouldn't talk to him, or her folks wouldn't let him talk to her, one of the two. Wasn't nice to see a mate o down, but there wasn't much we could do.

Maybe that's why Kate Kenny looked so attractive at the time? I'll never know. But deciding to become involved with her couldn't have been a more terrible idea if Wayne'd tried to think of one. It's like doctor patient, or student teacher. You just should _not_ do it. But Wayne did, and what a bloody mess. I always think to myself – if Monica Draper enters my station then it must be really bad. And she was here a lot during this particular saga. I used to sit at my desk massaging my temples, trying to make it all go away, or think of a resolution. I nearly fell off the chair when I found out he'd made a move on the one person I didn't think he would. That seemed really low to me. Neither Maggie nor Wayne probably ever knew that I knew, but like I've said countless times before, not much goes on in this station I don't know about.

Sometimes I have thought that the Kenny's and the Darcy's would be the end of us. The end of Mt Thomas. They certainly caused enough trouble to make the end come faster. But I think we're defeated them. There's not really many of them left now I guess. The religious me wouldn't say what I think whenever I think of the Darcy/Kenny clan, but I'm not very religious anymore so I'll just say it. Police were put on this earth to stop mongrels like them. In this job we try to see the good side in everyone. You have to give people a chance. But they always came into my station on their last chance. Yet somehow they always seemed to return. Hopefully not now though. It's been a couple of years. Maybe they're gone for good. Let's just hope there are no more blood or marriage relations out there. Although I often remember what Ditch Kenny said a few years back about Tarken, Kayla's little boy – that he was a Kenny, through and through. It makes me shudder almost to think there's a strong chance he'll turn out like the rest of his family.

There won't be a Pat Doyle around to save the world then will there? But he was there when we came across another one of our own tempted by the outside world. It took him a while to realise just what deep water Maggie was in when she went into bat for PJ (again) when Grantham set him up all those moons ago, but when it mattered he came through. Like I said, you can always rely on Pat Doyle. He has a quick head, and just gets on with the job. A bit like Maggie I suppose. Rushes in where the angels fear to tread. No fear. Just bounds in. Years later he and PJ never hesitated to follow Monica Draper and Melissa Anderson when he thought they were screwing up the biggest case of Maggie's career. He was wrong that time – Monica was just getting Melissa to a safe house – but you couldn't blame him for having his suspicions. Guess it doesn't help though, that Pat Doyle has never exactly been chummy with internal investigations. But that's delving into Doyle family history, and I don't want to ever delve into that again. So we'll leave that story here.

But Grantham. Always had a funny feeling about him. I knew some coppers who felt the same. We always watched him from a distance, just to be safe. He so often became hell bent on doing his job, catching the crooks, getting the convictions. Of course, PJ idolised him. Who doesn't idolise their boss? So it was a bit of a let down for him I suppose, after all that time to find out he was crooked. And then to have him come back and set him up. Gift wrapped with a nice ribbon might be an even better way of saying it. PJ was right when he said he reckoned he was stuffed. And he very nearly was. If it weren't for the fighting Doyle's, PJ Hasham wouldn't be where he is today.

Just before Pat left, I was sitting in my office trying to get through the mountains of paper work that had accumulated over the last week. Not at all in the mood to complete it all, I looked up and out of the window that used to look into the waiting area of my station. There, Pat was leaning in close to PJ, having what was obviously a fatherly chat with the detective. It made me chuckle when I heard, just barely, Pat whisper harshly into PJ's ear: "And don't get any funny ideas, otherwise I'll knock your block off." It was so reminicsient of a speech I once gave to one of Anna's boyfriends. Fathers and their daughters hey? That afternoon when I overheard Pat speaking to PJ was one of the first inklings of something between PJ and Maggie that I never picked up on until years later. Funny how these things happen.


	5. Chapter 5

It was at this time Chris and Adam were in full swing. I didn't like to think about it…still don't really. It didn't seem right to me, but what could I do about it? It was their choice. During this time though, them being together got me thinking about the possibility of Chris and me. I cursed myself for allowing the brain to go into that territory, but it didn't stop it from thinking about it. I think it's the fact I've known Christine Riley for as long as I can remember. Anything that has happened in her life, I've known about and vice versa – we've lived each others lives sometimes. Nell would never tell me what she and Chris would talk about when they got together for a cuppa. But she did tell me what Chris thought when I went to Vietnam, and when Nell and I announced our engagement. It made me think. But at the time, she was too young. Too young for me. Too familiar. Had I never met Nell that night at the dance, maybe life would've turned out different.

Susan came back that year. She was different somehow, and for the longest time I couldn't figure out why. Typical absent father syndrome – couldn't even see when my daughter was falling apart. Too busy focussing on work I suppose. Like I always do. Still do to this day. I reckon it was growing up on the farm – where the work is never completed at the end of the day. You always have to get up tomorrow and do some more. But I should've recognized it in my own daughter. My little girl. How could I have let her think she caused her mothers death? My heart ached to see her so distraught. We'd almost skipped the whole grieving process at the time, because Susie'd been so out of it lying in the hospital bed, looking pathetically small and as if the sheets were going to swallow her up. So I think my subconscious just skipped over it, pushing it out of my head, promising to deal with it later, but secretly hoping I would never have to. But these things always catch up with you. And it did, of course. But it fell on Nick, of all people. Probably the best person I suppose, when you think about it. I'll never forget when he came to see me after Nell died and gave me a word or two of advice. Didn't really want to listen to anyone that night, but he made me listen, and I'm glad he did.

But my little girl. Susie Sunshine. I couldn't believe she blamed herself. It was my fault for not cementing into her head that her mothers death couldn't have been avoided. If anyone was to blame it was me. And then again when the truth finally came out. And like when Nell died, Nick was the one who picked up the slack. Can always rely on that man you can. Nine years later I found myself relying on him again when he returned to my town. But that afternoon that he sat down with Susan, he got through to her. It really helped. Thank God. It meant we could visit Nell's grave and talk it out. Things finally got better, and when we talked it finally meant something. It wasn't just mindless chatter that avoided the real issue. It was a weight off my shoulders. While I might have been an absent father, it didn't mean I hadn't been worrying about her. I just hadn't allowed myself time to do anything about it.

The following year we tackled one particularly tough assignment – one that was tough on my whole crew, not just me. As every summer seems to be, it was bushfire after bushfire in our little community, and before I knew it we had two officers held hostage in the hospital – a hospital virtually deserted due to renovations and the fire warnings. And it was that day, as we crouched behind the safety of the police sedan that I witnessed yet another instance of some sort of connection between my detective and my only female constable. This time it was a lot more obvious than any times previous. I had to physically hold him back from going ape with those kids holding Maggie and Wayne…and he still got loose of my grip. It would've taken a lot of guts to run up to that window during such a dangerous operation. God knows I couldn't have done it. Not that day. But I know we all do what we need to for our own. And PJ ran up to that window for Maggie, I know now. Probably for Wayne too, because they were great mates – most of the time. I shudder to think what PJ would've said had he found out everything that ever occurred between Maggie and Wayne.

Whatever, that day I saw firsthand the candle if you like, that he held for Maggie. He was going to do all he could to get her out of there, even if it meant risking his own life. And he continued to do so right up until the day she died. I will forever admire him for that. I know it drove Maggie crazy, but it was admirable the way PJ was forever her knight in shining armour.

Not even weeks later the world fell apart again as I lost the first in my original flock. One of my kids – Patterson. His death shocked us all, I think because it happened so suddenly, even though really, we should've smelt the tragedy coming. Patterson's life had turned into one big tragedy really, which was unfortunate, but he never deserved to die. No one does I suppose. Except for some of the criminal filth I've encountered on those rare occasions when I've dealt with the scum of the earth. But not a fine officer like Patterson. He gave everything to this job, and so it hurt when the watch saga came to the surface. We never questioned his integrity – he never would have stolen that watch. But the rest of the world doesn't have as much faith in cops like cops themselves do. But we got there in the end, which was a relief, especially with Roz coming back and throwing a spanner in the works as well. It was then I tried to convince her about Wayne's dedication to his job, but she couldn't understand. I think she tried, but my little off hand speech that I tried so hard to make sound credible on the spot didn't work to its fullest effect.

I haven't felt much more proud of my officers than I did the day they fronted up to Wayne's funeral. At first I was angry, but I quickly grew to understand, and then cursed myself for ever ridiculing them. I know it couldn't have been easy on them, being shunned from the funeral of their friend. But it was never my decision. But I was glad that they showed, if only to show Helen and George and even Roz, how much Wayne's work was his life, and even more – how much his friends were his life. They needed to see how much Wayne meant to his friends to fully understand how attached Wayne was to the job.

Couple of months later we were introduced to the very uniqueness of probationary constable McKinley – a spritely young officer if ever I saw one. She rubbed me the wrong way from day one, particularly getting so involved with the Sheridan case, a case I felt at the time she didn't have authority to take part in. But one thing you could always count on McKinley for was an opinion. That or some gossip. She always added it in at the most inconvenient of times, but at the end of the day I used to think back to it and could never see a reason to reprimand her.

One day around then Anna showed up at the station counter telling me about her primary school buddy Bridget. What unfolded from there is not a case I like to reminisce about too often. I didn't want to think that for years I sent my own girls to that dentist, none the wiser that he was such a monster. Thank goodness my girls never ended up like Bridget.

A few months later, Anna was gone, off to who knows where. You like to think you know your kids pretty well, but I don't know where the hell Anna got her gallivanting around the globe streak from. It certainly wasn't me. I find out who Sam's father is one day, and the next they're gone. It hurt a bit…but at least I had Sam. I can't say he was the most angelic child, but what grandfather cares about that? He was my grandson, and while his mother was off God knows where, it was up to me to look after him, of which was difficult at times (I thank the Lord every night that the Inspector never dropped in on one of those many days that I arrived at work late with a nappy over my shoulder, my car keys in my mouth, my jacket on inside out and Sam's bassinet in one hand. What a professional look) but something I never thought twice about.

I got a system worked out eventually, and thank God I did, because the remainder of that year was pretty hairy. As these things always do, one of the biggest incidents you can be involved in as a cop occurred one day totally out of the blue. I remember I sent pretty much all the crew out that day to the Darcy's, minus McKinley, who'd cut her hand. Wish I'd gone with them now. One more pair of eyes is always a bonus. Especially as it seemed one more pair of eyes that day could've saved PJ a lot of grief in the long run. I can't even imagine what it must've been like for him. I don't think I want to imagine. As cops, we're supposed to be hardened against this stuff, but it's not easy. And when a woman comes at you waving a machete, it seems like your training is leaking out through your ears, and suddenly you're frozen. Clueless. Frightened as hell. Dumbfounded. A million things flash through your mind – so many things that, looking back on it, you actually wonder where all that time came from to think of so many things inside your head. At the same time though, you're awestruck. Time stands still. You can't think, you can't move…you can't even breathe. Not even milliseconds later, it's over, and either you're dead or they are.

That day it was them. Of all the Darcy's I suppose Raelene was the least of a threat, and probably the one with the purest soul. Because you certainly can't say the same about the men in her life. So it seems wrong that she was the one who lost her life that day. But it happened. One thing you learn very first day in the Academy (which then comes crashing back home to you full force your first day on the job) is that you can't turn back time. If only we could. I have always wanted to. So much could be avoided, so many different outcomes, so many saved lives. But you can't. Bet PJ wishes he could though. Maggie told me he stayed frozen after he emptied the magazine, and I was not surprised. Even PJ would have been affected by something like that. Even when Maggie went up to him to secure the weapon, he couldn't move. Most who meet PJ would scoff at me describing him like this, but I know PJ. He's still human. He's not a machine.

He tried to tell the jury that at the inquest. He tried with all he had to convince Sophie Camillo. Of course, she being a snotty solicitor, like they all are from the city, didn't believe him, and did her darndest to put him away. But I think I always knew deep down as fine an officer as PJ wouldn't be put away. He didn't murder Raelene. In a way, she murdered herself, as gruesome as that sounds.

Helped of course that Doyle went in to bat for him _again_. I think she was all that he needed. She was his little confidence booster. I could picture it…she would've half opened the court room door, quietly as she could, and stepped just inside the door. She would've looked up at him in the witness box, him looking all dreary and glum, and tiring from Camillo's constant badgering. She would have caught his eye, and done as gesture as simple as a wink of the eye, or a little smile with a lift of her chin, and it would've changed PJ's demeanor in a second. That would have been when he made his 'police are real people' speech to Camillo and really beat her down.

When the day at last came to an end, and Chris offered us all a free beer, I stood out of view behind the hovering media and watched as Maggie congratulated PJ on his win. I don't know what made me stop, or wait there, but I did, and I saw the look in her eyes as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was only the second inkling I had after that nagging one that bugged me for days after PJ, Pat and Maggie pinched Peter Grantham. I don't know…somehow, I just knew that things would be different. My point was only proved a few months later when PJ didn't rest until he found the tick that made Maggie collapse after visiting the land that the Truesdale's and the Armstrong's shared. I'd never seen PJ looking so rattled. He was unshaven and agitated, and bit back at you with every word he spoke. He wouldn't rest until he knew what had made Maggie go down. After losing Gina, he wasn't prepared to let Maggie go as easily as her flatmate.

Maybe my own brain was a little hazy that day though too, so maybe I was wrong about PJ's attitude and his actions. I _was_ supposed to be on sick leave. But how could I rest at home when all this drama was going on in _my_ station? No matter how old I get, or how many people get promotions above me, or how many heart attacks I have, or how many times my cancer might come back, this will always be my town, and the station will always be mine, and I live to know what's always going on there. So I saw no problem with being outside in 38 degree heat that day trying to reason with that numbskull Keith Purvis. Monica Draper certainly had a problem with it though. But I didn't let her beat me down. My station, my people, my town. Nothing will ever change that.

I admit, I was worried about Doyle too that day. I think my way of coping with it was putting myself in amongst the madness and trying to negotiate with Keith. PJ's way of coping was to snap back at you anytime you talked to him and to become hell bent on proving Maggie didn't have JE. And it turns out there was a method to his madness. Not that the rest of us wouldn't have fought tooth and nail to do all we could to ensure Doyle's recovery as well…but PJ went just that little bit further. It reminded me of when I wouldn't let Nell go as easily as her parents wanted me to, and fronted up to her place and had a word to her old man. I got her in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Reminds me also of the mine debarcle. Something had to have happened down there. I mean, what a situation! At the time I was so focused on getting them out, and even more focused on not allowing myself to think they could be dead that I didn't even realise the extent of the situation they were in for that day. Something had to have happened. It just had to. But I suppose we will never know.

Seemed to be the year of PJ and Maggie that year. They will never know, as Maggie is no longer with us, PJ is off in Melbourne and I will just never spill it no matter how many beers you feed me, but I was always in the background, and I always saw what went on between those two. After all this time, and so many years, they're still my flock, and I know them better than they know themselves at times. And so I saw those secret looks. I saw Maggie dig her elbow into PJ's ribs time and time again. I saw how he always stood inexplicably close to her. I watched PJ summon Maggie into his office any chance he got (or rather, anytime he could think up a good enough bogus excuse to get her in there). I know I interrupted them that day after we tracked Kanga and his Mum. I saw how close they were standing when I opened the door. They were practically on top of each other. And I blew the moment for them. Makes me chuckle now, made my brain hurt then trying to figure out why they both were acting so oddly.

Nick and I had a good laugh the night PJ sidled up to us at the bar in his Gaylord Game costume and tried to buy a beer and was rejected. When he was called back in we all heard him moan and groan about it, but I knew secretly he was loving spending all that time with Maggie. I had already heard how brilliant he thought it was that they were playing honeymooners, so I knew really his moaning and groaning was just an act.

PJ and Maggie being so wrapped up in each other at the time, and thinking they were doing so well at keeping it a secret probably only added to the headache that Robbie Doyle created when he came to town. I've seen it before, even in myself, the way close ties to a case can really affect your judgement. Maggie was caught in the worst of positions, and none of us envied her in the least. And my team, you could always count on them. They tried to see the good in Robbie, they tried to let him off for some things he did and they tried to ignore the way his coming to Mt Thomas had pretty much ruined Maggie's pleasant daydream of a life. But one person who couldn't ignore it was PJ. Always going in to bat for those who he thinks need his help. It's a valuable attribute as a cop. But PJ…oh PJ. He just let every ounce of his heart be taken up by his love for Maggie. And while their secret rendezvous were blissful, their bickering was not.

You could understand it. I mean, he was her brother. As if any of us wouldn't ever agonise over turning a member of our family into the cops. And you could understand PJ's side too. She was his girl. Of course he was going to pull out all stops to keep Maggie's life as blissful as it was before Robbie arrived in town. But that was what shook them. I saw them, for all those years, and saw how next to nothing could come between them. People are right when they say PJ and Maggie were perfect for each other. Mrs Burton at the bakery still chirps on about them to every newcomer that strides into town: "Oh I've never seen a more perfect couple than those two…" You almost get tired of hearing it some days. But it is a pleasant reminder of the good times.

But anyway. Robbie Doyle was the straw that broke the camel's back. I admired Maggie for sticking by him so much. She put a lot of herself into helping him get off heroin. It's like any troublesome thing you try to help someone else out of. They always need your help, so you give it to them. I've done it with the girls many times, and a few little buggers from the footy club and the highschool. I know what it's like to stand in front of them and see what needs to be done to make everything right again, but whatever you do, they just can't see it. Maggie sure had a go – many times in fact. But a kid running away from home is so different from an adult hooked one of the hardest drugs there is. It seems like an impossible task. Not that that deterred Maggie.

Perhaps it was this determination that PJ couldn't understand. Probably. He was all set to ditch Robbie on a plane to outer Siberia the moment he started giving Maggie trouble. But not Maggie. She stayed up those nights when Robbie went cold turkey. She massaged his shoulders, wiped his forehead and did everything she could think of to take his mind off having another hit. It would never have been easy. But she did it, without ever questioning whether she should or not, or whether he truly deserved his 64th chance. She showed a commitment to her family and to her brother in those few months before Christmas that I'd really never seen before – or since.

I will say though, her commitment to getting Robbie clean did cloud her judgement a little. Like I said, she put everything she had into ensuring he got clean, and as anyone would, she expected results. Any hope of a result in a case like that is of course naïve though, and some days it just seemed like everyone on earth was on one side shaking their finger at Robbie and Maggie was still sitting on the other side consoling him with a hug. You wanted to shake some sense into her, tell her to give it up. It didn't seem to be working. He was so far from clean that it was visible even to those who he passed on the street. But Maggie was blind to it. This is when she and PJ butted heads the most, despite PJ being quite the family man and always fierce to protect his sisters and mother as he grew up.

When we did that disasterous deal at the nightclub you could almost see the world falling in PJ's eyes. Finally he and Maggie seemed to have something in common in the whole mess – he didn't want to believe that she was the leak in the station just as much as she didn't want to believe that Robbie was still addicted. I admit, even I had my doubts about Maggie by that stage, and the angelic picture in my mind of my golden girl was starting to darken. I was never so glad as I was when we sorted it all out and Maggie was back behind her desk instead of talking to hardened dealers. Surely she would never be so stupid as to go into bat for her brother again, especially after he angered her so incredibly by sharing some of his favourite white powder his that girlfriend of his right there on Maggie's couch – the couch where the girlfriend later overdosed. But again, PJ and I both underestimated Maggie's commitment to her brother and we stood with mouths a gaping as she promptly applied for a loan and drained her bank account to pay for a stay in rehab for Robbie.

I didn't really think it would work. Hypnotherapy, candles, yoga, toe sucking, navel gazing…PJ and I share much the same views on alternative therapies. And of course we were right. But I don't think it was until we found Robbie spewing white foamy bubbles outside a public toilet block that reality finally slapped Maggie in the face. About time too. I think we can safely say that that display – a display that for the first time showed to the rest of the world just what kind of life the Doyle's lived – prompted Maggie into action. It had really got to the point where she just couldn't ignore it anymore. She was only fooling herself, and giving herself more grief and worries. But no doubt it couldn't have been easy seeing your brother carted away in handcuffs. I was so proud though. So proud. It was days like those that made me realise that none of us were half the person Maggie Doyle was. We still aren't. It's the saddest of shames that she isn't around for us all to learn from and look up to anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

I remember the day, not long after Robbie was put away, that we had a particularly memorable day on the job. Of course any day with Monica Draper around is hard to forget – she has me looking over my shoulder for the next week, and second guessing every decision I make – but this day was definitely one out of the blue. Us boys – me, Wayne, Nick, PJ – we'd all gossiped about her from time to time. PJ knew the most of course, had such a history with her, and always had the most to say, but we all pondered what else lurked inside the original ice queen. What was she like out of uniform? What was she like as a friend? As a relative? As a normal person? She was so icy that it was difficult to picture her as anything but a copper – as if she slept in her giggle suit and was never anything but 'Inspector Draper'. But we all have secrets. Some more secret than others. Sometimes I think that I'd prefer to not know everyone else's dark pasts – it only complicates things. Who would've thought Monica Draper had been hidden away as some scrawny pregnant teen? It just goes to show you that so much more lurks beneath the surface of people. And cops are probably the best at putting on that façade that hides the secrets. A certain female detective came to confirm this for me some years later.

Don't get me wrong – this job isn't all about doom and gloom. I don't mean for it to sound that way. There's always plenty to make you smile about. As a cop, you get in the thick of things and so you see the results. Nothing is more satisfying than reuniting a lost child with frantic parents, or seeing a healthy teenage boy kicking a footy around after finally recovering from some accident or other. One of the greatest things about this job is how you can help people. I've always said to my team – people rely on us, and it's not something to be daunted by and it shouldn't be seen as a burden. It's a priviledge that you as just a simple human being, can do so much for others. The blue suit is just our disguise. On the days when you're not feeling so strong, it really can help you out. I couldn't tell you how many of my colleagues over the course of my career have told me how invincible and capable they feel when wearing their uniform. It's like a steady hand that guides you – when you put on the uniform you suddenly know what to do. It gives you the strength and the courage to do what you would normally shy away from and reminds you that with the uniform on you have a job to do.

I know that the uniform so often gave my young charges the courage to do their job. When you're the youngest in the team and fresh out of the academy, everything looks scary. But the uniform helps. Young Dash used to go into the locker room with her face drawn, gallumping around like the kid she was in her bicycle boots, but moments later she would emerge, her uniform on, a glow in her cheeks, ready to start the day. I know when she got cancer it was one of the only things that gave her strength – the knowledge that the uniform never changed. It would never let her down, and when she put it on there would always be a job to do – something to fulfill her vivacious energy and thirst for life. I know I drew strength from my job a lot when I went through my diagnosis so many years later. It was a constant that was always there and somehow I would always convince myself that I needed to be a cop more than I needed to feel sorry for myself, and so I would put on the uniform and get back that cherished feeling of invincibility again. To know that something or someone else needs you is so often motivation enough to get you out of bed.

It was about this time that Ben Stewart arrived on my doorstep, looking and acting just like every other city big wig I've ever come across. The suit. The hair. The attitude. I thought it was PJ for a moment. Actually, the similarities between those two are hard to avoid. Why else would they have been housemates, best friends, colleagues and have the hots for the same girl all in the space of less than ten years? It's probably why Ben did like Maggie. He and PJ must share the same tastes, because not many people could live with PJ! Funny though – at the time I actually found myself worrying that this whole love triangle thing they had going on would prove an enormous headache, but as years passed I just kept seeing more and more how Maggie was only ever supposed to be with PJ and he only ever meant to be with her.

In the end Ben knew he couldn't have her. She just wasn't meant for him. Ben Stewart always knew his limits. Always. It's just that it always took him ages to realise them. But once he knew he was right. Didn't mean it was easy along the way though. It seemed, through wearing his heart on his sleeve twenty four hours a day, that Ben experienced it all – orphaned kids, drinking problems, divorce, failed relationships. The list never really ended. But Ben Stewart was the kind of person who was meant to be a copper, simply because being a cop is mostly about helping people, and that was what Ben always shone at.

My team back in the olden days really was a true team. We worked together so well, even though sometimes it didn't seem that way. Perhaps it was the country town factor. The way we lived in each others pockets pretty much constantly – worked together, ate together, drank together, lived together. It was always good to have such a close bond though, because even though I said before that the uniform was so often the Superman suit for us all, there were always times when you felt scared to put it on, and when that happened, it was always your colleagues you turned to. My losing my grey locks to match McKinley's bold head is an example of this.

The uniform, while it _can_ make you feel invincible, it can also become a pressure cooker of responsibilities that feel overwhelming on even the best of days. Because like it or not, you placed yourself in this situation voluntarily – you chose to make policing your career, and with it come the responsibilities of the world. By choosing policing you have chosen to be impartial yet still sympathetic, lawful but not full of yourself, correct but still fair, brave and not weak. It's never easy. Being a cop means being so many things and when you put on that suit you have to be every single one of them. And sometimes the fear of falling makes you not want to put on the suit. What if you fail even when you have your Superman suit on? What will the world think of you then?

I think Maggie was always afraid of that. She more than others had so much to live up to. So much to be as good as. And while she always rose to the challenge, like any typical Doyle, her passionate side, her family side, the inner Maggie, always got in the way, and it was to be the end of her – although not for want of trying. I still miss her desperately and can remember so clearly the night I last spoke to her and held her close to me. She was so upset, and quick as a flash the situation had become so dire and so bleak that nobody could do anything about it. It was heartbreaking not only realising that fact but having to deal with it.

I can remember that night so clearly that sometimes it just doesn't seem like she has actually gone. As if time has been paused and one day I'll get to go back to that night and change things. Because I can just remember it so clearly I wonder how it could've slipped through my fingers so easily. I blame myself for not stepping in earlier, even though the chain of events went back so far and had become so complicated and so messy with every day that passed that almost nothing could've stopped what happened. After her death, I used to lie in bed by myself and try to figure out a loop hole – something I could've done, an action I could've taken, that would've not meant such a disasterous end to such a beautiful life. Sometimes I would convince myself that PJ and his feelings for her could've stopped her death, and I did believe that for a long time, just placing it down to the fact that things had gone terribly wrong. I never questioned his love for her. Today though, my feelings have changed. I don't believe in such things anymore – not when I loved somebody so much and yet they were still taken from me. I suppose PJ feels similar.

The weeks following Maggie's death were bitterly difficult. I couldn't focus on anything but my memories of her, and they followed me around constantly. In a way it was good, as it made me so driven to avenge her death and make somebody pay. I know PJ possessed the same drive, probably even deeper than my own. I admit the hunt for her killer completely consumed me, and it did affect my job. In a strange way attending her funeral was a break from the relentlessness of it all, but it also meant that I had to do what I had been putting off for so many days. Until I sat in that church and saw her coffin before me with her hat sitting on top, I think I refused to really believe that she was gone. But it was just like solving a crime – when you finally have the evidence in front of you, the truth is always bought into a clearer light. I could no longer ignore the fact that she was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

I've experienced a lot of death in my life, most tragic, and I hate that. I haven't lost a lot of friends or relatives, and if I have, they have died naturally. But Nell, and Maggie, and even Grace, they were all snatched so cruelly from my grasp. It has made me despise any kind of faith that says things happen for a reason. I make no apologies for having lost my faith in anything bar our justice system (and even that I still question occasionally) because the faith I used to have has shown me nothing but the worst side of human nature. Religion is no longer a comfort to me, nor something I believe in.

For at least a year following Maggie's death PJ was a different person. Before her death I never questioned PJ Hasham's ability. As a detective of such high caliber he could always do his job, and I thought absolutely nothing could get in the way of that. In the weeks and months following Maggie's death though, it really became apparent though how wrong I was. I mean sure, he put on the strong façade in the office and in the field, but I know at home, or alone in his office, he thought always of her and how lesser life he now led. To this day I think he stills thinks this way. Sad but true.

You cannot blame him though of course. You can never get fully over somebody's death. When I was a little bloke, I had a dog who was as much a member of the family as Billy or Davey or I. And when he died it was like a little part of me had died along with him. I was astounded at how much it affected me and how upset I was over his death, even though all dogs die one day. I remember actually being frightened of losing any humans I was close to, because dammit, if I got this upset over a dog, what on earth would I be like if I lost a friend? Today of course, I have to use more than one hand to count the number of people I know who have died before me, before their time, and it still devastates me incredibly if I think about it for too long. You just can't get over losing someone because the starkness of a loss is so in your face. One minute they're there and the next they're gone and suddenly there is an emptiness that lingers. And it never goes away.

We as coppers of course throw ourselves into work to numb the pain. As I mentioned, it really is quite the anesthetic. But some day it can be a struggle. I used to tell my flock – the young baby faces of Maggie, Wayne and Adam – that in our job we see the very worst side of human nature. I wanted them to know the truth, to be prepared for what the job would most certainly throw at them. Sometimes I wonder if I prepared them enough though. It will always be a lingering question I guess. No number of commendation certificates or medals can convince you you're a good copper because there will always be thing you will want to change. I never feel worthy of anything the brass award to me. They aren't meaningless medals but I know they don't mean as much to me as everybody thinks they do – because I have still lost so many of my crew and done so many wrong things I will always regret.

On the six month anniversary of Maggie's death I dreamt of her. It was an odd dream. I can't even recall it that well really. But it wasn't your typical she's in a better place now and has a lot of work to do there kind of dream. I had stopped believing she was in a better place anyway. The best place for her was always on this earth walking in step with PJ Hasham.

It was as if, in my dream, she was back with us, but at the same time not. As if she had found a comfortable, safe medium where she was free of the dangers of policing and her family's problems, but not so far away from all those who loved her that we felt sad at her absence. I distinctly remember sitting at my desk not feeling the emptiness I did in real life, because it felt like she was still just a room away, the way she had been for six years.

I am so high

I can hear heaven

I haven't dreamt of her since that day.

I had to get used to a bit of a new generation for a while there – my new young baby facers weren't like they used to be. I gained a Jo and a Jack, and they were nothing like a Maggie or a Wayne. So it took me a while to get used to. Part of me loved their renegade attitudes and their unrelenting thirst for adventure, and in that way they actually were similar to Maggie and Wayne. But in every other way they were polar opposites.

Still, I grew to admire their little obscurities. At first glance Joanna Parrish was your typical only child. The princess with the pony and the doting parents. She certainly came into my station with the attitude like that and I think it plagued her for a while, pulling her away from her true potential, although I don't suppose she could help it. And the way people slotted her into the Daddy's little girl category also kept her from her fullest potential for a while. I knew though, that soon enough it would eat away at her enough and she would no longer be able to ignore being categorized like that. And I was right of course. Pretty soon she was so hell bent on proving that she wasn't the poor little rich girl who couldn't be taken seriously that I actually had to pull her back into line to stop her from going overboard.

But Jo, like all my kids I suppose, went in to bat for her colleagues. She didn't give up. She bent the rules, she played with fire, she stuck two fingers up at authority – but it was always for the good of others. Always for the right thing. She could frustrate the hell out of you, but in the end, it always worked out.

Someone actually remarked to me once how fiercely loyal any cop was that went through Tom Croydon's station. I was so proud, and knew it was so true. I had hand moulded a line and a legacy of brilliant police men and women that were the envy of others. I never let on to Jo or Maggie or Wayne or Nick that they were fine officers, just in case their heads got too big, but I suppose somewhere they always knew too. It was the feeling you got at the end of a case, or the end of a satisfying day.

Jack – somewhat the twin of Jo – was a lot like me I suppose. Born and raised in the bush, what could you expect? He thought on his feet, always doing what was immediately the right thing to do, and I suppose that is why his first day under my wing I lost him for three hours because he was doing the elderly a favour and cutting down a dangling tree branch that brushed the powerlines. When he finally got back I had a go at him and all that came back was "Was that wrong sir? Shouldn't I have done it?" and I just couldn't punish him. Of course it wasn't the wrong thing. I would've done the same, and I told him so. Never before, or since, had I had an officer that just so completely understood the core of country policing.

Despite all the distractions with new members and what not, when Tess came along I was still a little in my Maggie cloud. I still thought of her everyday, unable to move her memory into a back part of my mind to enable me to concentrate fully on police work. But Tess's desire for order and productiveness made me want to do my job better and finally pulled me at least part way out of my grieving funk.

Tess Gallagher was the classic example of the police force's golden child. A place for everything and everything in its place. The teachers pet and top of her class. The one who stayed back the extra half hour at shooting practice to hone her skills. The one who would come in on Sunday afternoons to run around the oval or sit in the library when all the other recruits were down at the pub. Tess Gallagher almost didn't know when to stop because stopping would mean falling short of pleasing someone. Like Jo, she wanted to prove that her less than ideal upbringing was not going to stop her. And it worked well for her in the police force, although sometimes I wondered if she aimed to please just a little bit too much. But most days I couldn't fault her. Tess always knew when to pull back and when to forge ahead. She didn't allow herself to become personally involved with anything and kept everything strictly business. She was a text book officer.

Until that day in March. I know I saw so little of the whole mess, but I did see her when she came out of that mine shaft, and previous to that I had delivered her the dreadful news of Frasier Fulton's death via radio. Suddenly thrown into the depths of despair and dangerous hands on police work, Tess could no longer keep a professional distance from those she was supposed to be helping. She was involved now, and stuck down a mine shaft, the lives of others her responsibility, she was thrust into the ugly side of policing. It's almost a question of ethics – tell the truth and risk further danger or lie to speed up the chance at safety? Both sides have their positives and negatives. To tell Tina Fulton that her son had died under the rubble of a collapsed mine would have put her in serious danger of further injuring herself and most likely would have slowed down the rescue effort that was in place to free both she and Tess. But to keep such a secret from her, a secret she was fully entitled to know, seemed cruel and wrong. But put on the spot, one must make a decision, and that is what Tess did. She did what she thought was best at the time. In retrospect it probably was the right decision, but like I said, there are always positives and negatives to every choice.

The Fulton saga was not the last time Tess was caught in something of an ethical spin. For all Jack had going for him, he really threw it away, and it disappointed Tess even more than it did me. For a while I was confused by this, as I was more Jack's Boss than Tess was, but I suppose he worked under her instruction and her watchful eye a lot more than he did mine. And of course – and I always realized this ages later – they were probably romantically involved to some extent. It always seems to happen in my station. I suppose another part of the 'small country station team' thing we used to have going on. Not many of my flock ever had relationships outside the boundaries of the force, probably because such relationships are usually doomed right from the start. Only a fellow cop can understand your worries and your frustrations associated with the job, and I think it makes it easier to confide in them and build a relationship from it.

So perhaps that is why Tess seemed so devastated at Jack's actions with the whole ecstasy case. She confided in PJ about it though, not me. She and PJ shared a kind of old school connection in that he was the only one she ever really turned to for advice, because he had been around the block and the rest of her colleagues were too young and too inexperienced to have been around the block yet. I of course have been around the block many more times than I care to admit, but I was her Boss, and I suppose there was a certain sense of awkwardness about her coming to me with a problem. Plus PJ was always the sympathetic one who would nod in all the right places and hug you at exactly the right moment. I can't say I was always like that.

I also think PJ had a connection with the rest of my crew because since Maggie's death he saw so little in everything for himself. As if his chance to achieve and have it all had passed him by, and he now only was around to help others achieve their dreams. It was so obvious when he helped Tess with Jack. He began having so little concern for himself and so much for others that I wondered if he was doing more harm than good in neglecting what he was truly feeling. Years later he again went out of his way for a colleague and bought her abuser to justice to make sure that she led a better life. No bother with his own life.

Still, I wonder where the world would be if it didn't have people like PJ Hasham in it. He does so much good without even realising it. We got to talking about it one weekend when we went fishing together. It was the weekend of the riot at the prison and my team had to hold prisoners to capacity in our tiny cells. Glad I missed that one! But anyway, PJ and me, we went fishing that weekend – not your usual activity for either of us, because I just never seemed to be able to find the time, and PJ is just more of a slobbing on the couch eating pizza and watching Bruce Willis kind of guy. But we went fishing and as we sat on the riverbank, able to hear nothing but the twitter of the birds around us as they flew in and out of tree branches dodging the smattering of rain that was falling, I broached the subject to PJ, fully aware that it would make him upset and uncomfortable. But I just had to know. If he couldn't be the detective he used to be, the detective he was when Maggie was alive, perhaps he needed to reconsider what life path was best for him.

It felt like I was being harsh by dumping such a perplexing question on him, but credit to him, he sat up straighter and answered truthfully. Being a detective was his destiny he told me. What he was always meant to do. He admitted it was harder without her around, but also felt like if he didn't have work he didn't have anything. I had to agree. I'd felt that way so many times before, and I still do some days. The uniform, the hours, the people, the job. It's all a constant that will never change. And it's a comfort when you really do have nothing else.


	9. Chapter 9

When I gained one of the Jones family to my team I seemed to get that same feeling I got the day I realized I had a Doyle on my hands. Evan Jones had everything going for him the moment he stepped out of the academy I think. He was enthusiastic, good natured, dedicated and got the job done. And while many would have succumbed to the pressure placed on oneself to live up to the standard set so high by his family before him, Evan Jonesy rose to the challenge and never let himself, or his family, who all eagerly waited in the wings ready to pounce the moment he failed, crumble under the pressure. All he wanted was to be a good cop. Still does.

Probably not the best time to impress Tess Gallagher, who had just about reached her limit with disobedient young constables, but he flew into my station all the same and tried constantly for years to impress her and get a smile or a 'good work' out of my icy sergeant. You had to give him points for trying.

There were times when Evan Jones did fail. What officer doesn't? But he can be so proud of the fact that he never really let it affect him. Even when he was square in the frame for his brother's murder, he could still remember the good times they had shared. He never let himself get dragged down by anything. And no one can say a positive attitude isn't a valuable asset to a copper.

He had an eagerness about him that impressed also. A drive to help others, to get in the tick of things, to get his hands dirty. Still, a lot of the time he saw the police force through rose coloured glasses, never expecting it to be the way it was. He was like that for quite a few years until sergeant Gallagher, PJ and I ironed out the kinks in the dynasty. Raynor once told me that he had admitted to her that he thought the police force was going to be all fast cars and helping people. I laughed inside when I heard. It was such a false view of what our work is, but no doubt what every young recruit starts out thinking. It was that night, when Raynor told me of Jones' niavity, even though it had been a good half decade since he had joined my small team, that I remembered how I loved the freshness he still bought to our job. The way he could remain optimistic even in the darkest of times. It was a trait that pretty much guaranteed him a spot in detective training.

Of course, I can't not mention his 'stuff this' attitude to a lot of his policework as well. I know it was something that severely frustrated Tess, and in a way I am glad I wasn't ever Jones' sergeant because it would have probably driven me up the wall even more than it did her. He bought a freshness to the job, had an enthusiastic and driven approach and people skills that so many of us envied, but one side that so often let him down was how he just could not sit still when told not to do something. This has often been a problem with young constables, especially my own. Some days I just wanted to tether them to their desks just to keep them out of mischief and save us all a headache. Or even better, a visit from Falcon Price – visits that always gave me headaches.

Jones's eagerness to please led him to do all sorts of things, always with mixed results. I saw how he tried to make up a little of Tess's childhood by getting her tickets to see her childhood hero. How he would hold Jo when she cried on the job. How he could be a kid in order to get through to a kid. And how he used to protect Kelly like a big brother would his little sister. It was always just him trying to be their best friend. To make them feel better. Not many people like that left anymore.

On the other side of the desk at the time were PJ and Jo, embarking on what seemed, at the time, to be an even more tumultuous relationship than Maggie and PJ's. To this day I still frown on office relationships, but my stance has softened. Sometimes you just need your mates. And in a way I hoped so badly that perhaps I could see a bit of the old PJ I once knew. If Jo could do that for him it might all be worth it. And maybe it was. At least at times. She certainly tried her best to make him happy. But he was probably a lot more complex underneath than she had anticipated. We all probably underestimate PJ Hasham. And then underestimate even more the love he held for Maggie. I can see why Jo wasn't happy in the end. A love as strong as the love PJ shared with Maggie is truly difficult to live up to. She could never be as good as Maggie, as beautiful, as passionate, as much PJ's best friend as Maggie was. It was like Maggie was the benchmark. The impossible bench mark. It just confirms for you how much PJ and Maggie were meant for each other.

My kids – I just wanted to shield them from all this horrible stuff. Police work is so downright depressing so much of the time. And I've experienced it all. I always just want to protect their young vivacious eyes and attitudes from the bad things. But inside I know that the dark side – the side where you can't resuscitate that car accident victim, where you don't find that missing child, where justice isn't served the right way – makes for a better cop. A cop must be hardened against almost everything. Because you're Superman and you need to act like it, twenty four hours a day.

When I met Grace, the first thing that struck me was how easily we could talk. I hadn't had that in so long – someone who understood me so well, as if able to read my mind and take the words out of my mouth. It didn't matter that we met in a cemetery, the place I once associated so much with those I have lost over the years, or that in the public's eye we were too old for love. It was just so nice to have someone else at last. It went so fast, but we married and settled into home and it felt like it'd been forever that we'd been together. Maybe I had always loved her, just not met her til too late. I still think about her every waking moment. We should be growing old together by now. Enjoying grandkids and bowls and afternoon tea on the veranda. It's like I don't have a life anymore because I don't have someone to share it with. I hate it.

Most of the time though, I can ignore the triggers. I avoid the cemetery. I don't sit on the veranda in the afternoon sun. I don't go to church anymore. I even sleep in a different bed. I'd be seeing Grace every time I turned my head otherwise, and that's just too painful. And of course I throw myself into work as well. My anesthetic. Don't know how many times I can say that. But it really does work.

I felt Jones' sadness when Tess left. He didn't lose her the way I did Nell or Grace, but he still lost her. Just in a different way. He has the luxury of making the trip to Melbourne whenever he wants to see her, which is a luxury I don't have. Oh if only Grace was just a few hours drive away, instead of a lifetime! But you could see how upset he was when she drove away. It was, in a way, throwing everything back into his face. He had tried so hard, for so long, in so many different ways to prove himself to her and to impress her. Even his father would've been easier to impress I think.

Don't be ashamed to cry

She rarely returned his affections – unless there's something I don't know about, which I suppose there is – and I know it disappointed him. Because usually a Jones just had to work hard and persevere and it got results. But then she was packing her bags and leaving no doubt he felt like he had failed with Tess. Failed to convince her to stay. Failed to convince her that everything she needed was right here. Failed to convince her that he was her man. Failed. It made him shed a tear, only highlighting the way he looked as forlorn as a child who has been let down by an adult. His freckles stood out, and his cheeks blotted pink as his eyes glazed over with the tears he had tried so hard to hold back. In the end he let them out, as if in a last ditch effort to impress her in another way – not with his strength but with his weakness.

Like so many other people and things from those days, I know Tess reminds Evan of the good times. The times before everything seemed to go wrong. While he might've struggled as a young probationary during those years and never made the impression on his sergeant that he'd been hoping to, it was still a better time than what was to come. Because back then he had yet to lose his brother, his best friend, and all of our innocence.

I don't know why they say grown men don't cry

We all miss that time.


	10. Chapter 10

I always wanted more from Raynor. I really pinned my hopes on her achieving from day one. It's a shame this didn't happen. She just seemed to have a lot of promise. Unlike my other kids, she had her life well and truly sorted by the time she came to my station. She'd traveled, she'd married and most importantly she wasn't under 21. I thought it was all going to happen for her. But somewhere in there she just got lost somewhere. Like with the changing of my town, it always happened in the background when you didn't notice it. Just little things that one day you turn around and realise how different something, or in this case, someone, has become.

She and Jones worked very well together too, especially in their later years as colleagues, even though I know this time was probably the most volatile in their friendship. But even throughout all that, just like with Tess, Evan tried so hard to prove to her that yes, he did understand her and what she was feeling. But she could never see it.

Briefly they got on like a house on fire. It was after Dylan's overdose. It just bought them so much closer together. It was a time where Jones needed her and she was the only one that was there at the time. And she was the perfect – and only – choice. While Dylan's death pulled the Jones' apart even further, it did bring Susie and Evan closer, although probably for the last time.

Don't be ashamed to cry

Let me see you through

Cos I've seen the dark side too

Perhaps it was this closeness they didn't realise they shared that was what tested their friendship. Great mates on and off the field, when they tried to take it further it was like the whole world was saying 'woah, hold back, this isn't the right thing to do' but they couldn't hear. Blissful head over heels love will do that to you I guess. But it meant they really did learn the hard way.

I'm a lot like you

And this…whatever it was… that she couldn't get figured out with Evan just got in the way of her becoming the great cop I wanted her to be. She could've been amazing had so much not happened to her. If she hadn't lost her husband, if Jo hadn't have been killed, if she hadn't been Ben's shoulder to cry on, if Jones hadn't been there to distract her, if she hadn't won, and then lost, that promotion. It's a shame. By the time we all re evaluated exactly where our lives stood that whole hazy year they almost closed my station, I'd almost forgotten she was even a member of our team. She didn't look like her heart was in it anymore. That was how much she had faded into the background, nothing but just another person in the blue giggle suit. Sure, in that hazy year we all kind of stood alone, and away from others, our feelings and loyalties so mixed up and divided and really just such a bloody mess. But Raynor really disappeared off the radar. She really could've been great.

It's odd, like Maggie's death, I don't like to talk about it, but in the same way I can remember her death so clearly, I can remember the day my whole life changed forever just as clearly. It's like it happened yesterday – the affects of it, the magnitude of it, the devastation of it all so raw and still so unbelievably real that I can almost touch them.

I can't believe the news today

I can't close my eyes and make it go away

In all honesty I've tried to block a lot of it out. Memories that are too painful to think about used to flood back to me constantly and they hurt terribly. The way I dealt with the Baxter's, the way I left Jo and Clancy in the station by themselves, the way my mind was always elsewhere. I try to block it out and just love on. Or at least stop killing myself with the worst kind of regret there is. I will always regret that day. Maybe I could've changed it. And what hurts the most is the knowledge that I cannot go back in time and change what happened that day. It taps incessantly at my shoulder telling me that I can't.

And to lose a young member in such a way – it wasn't fair. She did nothing wrong. She just did her job, and that was all anyone ever asked of her and all that was ever expected of her. So it wasn't fair that her life was cut short.

And the battle's just begun

There's many lost, but tell me who has won?

I know it affected her colleagues in a big way. The whole team reacted differently – even from my hospital bed I could tell that – and none of their actions were especially positive. But no one could blame them. When you lose someone you were so close to in an act of viciousness so awful, how can you possibly find positives in anything? You don't even have the strength to try. And you don't want to anyway.

Raynor had a hard time of it, Jo being her closest friend bar Jones in this town. Similar to the way Maggie and Dash used to get along, they just somehow clicked and I know they always found a strength in each other and had an unprecedented faith in each other – one would always _always _stick up for the other – that they just never had with their male colleagues. For Susie to lose that, and so soon after an already devastating time in her life with the death of Brad, was a real blow. Perhaps it was the beginning of her downward spiral, that path into the background. That was the day I, as her boss, began to lose my capable constable. And God knows everything only slipped further downhill from that point on – what with ecstacy in her handbag, a drug dealing boyfriend, a 2 hour engagement to Jones and a dalience with Kirby – it really was not a good couple of years for our Suse.

I saw PJ and Nick handle it the most I suppose, just being with them so much throughout those next few harrowing weeks. We didn't get on too well for those weeks, mostly my fault I suppose. I ignored my team, deserted my remaining family, lost faith in my job and just basically lost all sense of reality and sense. But again, you couldn't blame me. I know that since that fateful day I've changed. It's not my fault that I have, and I can't do anything to bring myself back to what I once was. Everything has changed.

It wasn't easy for me to see one of my closest friends in PJ being dealt another cruel blow again when Jo was killed. How can that be fair? To take away not just the love of his life but the woman he had found happiness with after the love of his life? It wasn't right. And it wasn't easy seeing a broken PJ moping around again. PJ is truth to the old saying 'What's wrong? You look like you've just lost your best friend.' Because he had. And more than once.

Nick being back was both a blessing and a nuisance. He got the job done, which was what we needed, although at the time I didn't think he was doing the job right at all. In some ways I still do not, but that's Nick for you. His way or the highway. But it's over now. The case is closed, or at least far from my mind these days. I don't like to keep dwelling on the past.

Bottom line is this should never have happened. Not here. Not when it did. Not ever.

After that day things kind of all muddled into one big haze of days that I don't remember all that clearly. Which made it really not the ideal time for me to get four new members – members that at first I felt so distanced from and who didn't seem to be the right officers at all for my team. At the time I didn't really care. All I wanted was to find Grace's murderer and make them pay. Like with Maggie's death, it totally consumed me, and I know now that it wasn't the best example to give my new recruits, even if two of them were senior officers who needed little in the way of guidance. But all the same I showed nothing worthy of a figure to look up to for Kelly or Joss. Some days I really regretted that, because I felt like it shaped severely who they became and what kind of policing they showed off to the community. Luckily, for the most part, they found their feet on their own. Getting thrown into the deep end will do that to you.

Not much got me out of my dark haze during those first few weeks in the new station but I admit that the arrival of Kelly sure did, if only for a few moments. But quick as a flash I found myself reverting back to my grumpy ways and reprimanding her for just being herself. I was so surprised to see her – to have her right there in my station standing in front of me – it was just too surreal and bought back a barrel of memories I had filed away in the back of my mind. It almost knocked me for six and made me realise how old I was actually, because here was this little girl, a blonde streak of sunshine that had the husky laugh that I had heard so often in amongst squeals and giggles in the backyard when she would play with Anna and Susan. And suddenly she was all grown up and pretty much in the same league as myself and that made me put a hand on the door frame to steady myself. It seemed like life was speeding past me at its own lightning pace and I just couldn't keep up, because dammit, it seemed like just yesterday Kelly was a little girl farewelling her beloved Dad.

My best mate – I'll miss him always. I sat in the second row of the church that day and couldn't help but notice the still figure that sat in front of me. Her hair, always long and almost yellow it was so blonde, flitted over the back of the pew as she sat next to her mother. She didn't move, or talk, and later when I saw her at the wake she clung to her mothers hand like she would never let go. Just a sprite of a thing I knew that her Dad's death would affect her deeply, because like every other little girl who has a Dad whose a copper, or a fireman or some other hero like creature, she looked up to him every single day. You can have little doubt that she joined the force because of him.

So, coupled with feeling like time was flying by and I was getting prehistorically old, I was then confronted with the attitude and gall of Constable Peroni. First impressions were not good. And to think I'd thought Evan Jones was a hotshot who had joined the force to play with guns and fast cars! He was nothing compared to Peroni. More than once I have wondered if he joined the force for the right reasons. 99 of recruits join for the reason you should join – because you want to make a difference - as clichéd as that sounds. But it's what you should be joining for. If you possess a true passion to help people, to make a difference, to stand up for what is right, then you will make a terrific police officer. I've always wondered if Joss really joined for those reasons or for the wrong reasons – the fast cars, the guns, the great pinches, the status, the superiority.

He learnt lessons quickly enough though, as you always do in Tom Croydon's station. Being thrown in the deep end really is the best way to learn I think. It can be annoying and frustrating and seem downright unfair at the time, but you always come away from it a better person – stronger, more confident and most of all more resilient. I know there are some sargeants – the soft ones – who want to shield their young probationary constables in their first year or two on the job. Don't give them anything too heavy. Don't let them see the gory stuff. Don't make them do death knocks. Don't let them take part in raids. I've known some sergeants who won't even let their probationary constables drive the four wheel drive! It's ridiculous. My probationary constables get thrown into the thick of things and they pull their weight, just like any other member of the team.

My first impression of Sergeant Jacobs was not much better than my first impression of Constable Peroni. Speaking of soft sergeants I immediately felt, even through the haze, that the sergeant wasn't up to the tough standards I set for this station, and I told him so. We never got on very well, but I soon felt that the issue was out of my hands. We worked separately for much of the time he was in Mt Thomas and I so often felt that this was just the way we had to do things. It was clear that he and I shared nothing in the way of values and morals, and much more in the way of ethics and it meant we butted heads on too many occasions to name. I have nothing bad to say about him as a copper, but I agree that we disagree and have very different views on how to run things.

Some might say that I let my rank – which was higher than Jacobs – go to my head whenever we had a disagreement. Perhaps this is true. But the fact of the matter remained that he answered to me, not the other way around, and he should always have followed my instructions, the same way the younger constables should have always followed his instructions. It is as simple as that.


	11. Chapter 11

Kirby didn't impress me much on his first day. While his larrikin nature might've impressed me a few years ago, that day I was just not in the mood, and it did not make for a good impression on his behalf. Like Raynor, he often disappointed me with his role as a cop. I never doubted his passion for the job – I never doubt anybody's commitment to the force in my station – but the way he went about it often let him down. And his forays as acting sergeant are just not worth mentioning.

Among his only good points about becoming a member of my team (and I'm hoping he will continue to at least _try_ to impress me) was the way it affected Jones. Although even that had its negatives and positives. Them being such great mates was at times both a blessing and a bloody nuisance. He was good for Jones – a lifelong friend is something everyone should have – and it gave Jones a bit of respite from time to time from some of the rigours of this job. At other times though they fought and swore at each other like 12 year old boys in the playground. And don't even get me started on the whole love triangle they had going with Raynor – the poor girl was pulled this way and that, and it didn't even end well with Kirby and Jones becoming professional bachelors and continuing to live like twelve year olds, leaving Raynor behind to pick up the pieces of her reputation and her heart. I'm the first to admit men can be asses sometimes.

On the other hand, one must always give themselves plenty of time to try to evaluate the complexities of Amy Fox. I can't clearly remember the first time I met Amy, but I do remember one night in the Imperial, just after she had arrived, overhearing her speak to Jones. "I heard that about Mt Thomas - that people here stick up for their mates," she mentioned casually. It made me worry about her for a while, because she said it in such a way that I wondered if she could possess the same sort of comradeship that her sentence had stated. I feared that she had been in the city too long, that she was too different, too hardened, too career minded to fit into this town and my team. Because what I heard her saying to Jones certainly made it seem like she just didn't – and wouldn't – understand the country town mentality we have out here. And out here, if you don't stick up for your mates, you're pretty much no use to us.

Of course her pure genius at detective work seemed to override that fear for most of the first year. And then I found out that there were so many other reasons why she seemed so different from any other detective we'd ever had before. Amy is a perfect example of how a painful past can make a huge impact on your life and your career. To her credit she never let it totally cloud her judgement or impress upon her to make a call that was totally out of line. But she came mighty close. Too many times.

It was then perhaps this teetering on the edge of bringing personal scars into the workplace that finally made me accept her as a member of my team. I could at last see her vulnerability coming into the light and it was then only confirmed for me when the case with her uncle came up. She tried hard to stay away from it – to brush it under the carpet, pretend it wasn't happening and that it wasn't getting to her. But it did get to her, in a big way (understandably) and she just couldn't possibly sit on the sidelines, no matter how much PJ or I tried to keep her on the bench. Suddenly Amy was one of my crew too, just like everybody else.

Family problems that become part of work never do anyone much good, but in this case it just could not be avoided. I could see Amy wished she didn't have to go through with it – half of her wanted to just hide it away in her past forever. But you know then that it will just eat away at you always…unless you do something about it. Took a lot of guts to take that step towards doing something about it I'm sure. Can't have been easy at all. Fifteen years of suppressed memories to spread out on the table for all to see. And Amy is _not _the type to air her dirty laundry.

During that case PJ was definitely her rock. If you'd asked her she would've said she didn't need a rock. But she would've said it in a heartbeat – so fast and sounding so sure that you would question whether it was true or just an automatic response to shield herself. All her life she has had to be strong, her own rock, and survive on her own. No one should have to live like that. Everybody needs someone. And during that time PJ was always floating in the background for Amy, just within reach if she needed it. And she never admitted that she needed it, but she so often did.

The day in court came sooner than expected, and the whole time we waited for that date you could see an uneasiness in Amy's eyes. She wanted it to be over. She was ready then more than ever to just move on, because by opening up she had given herself that opportunity. When it was time to go to court we did it quietly, and barely anyone knew. Amy just went to Melbourne on the Sunday afternoon and was back by Wednesday. PJ went with her. They slipped in and out of Melbourne quite stealthily, not making a big deal out of it – for Amy's sake. But when they returned I saw the difference straight away. She was totally different – the way she walked was more relaxed, she no longer snapped at the constables or Kirby as much as she used to and most of all the uneasiness had left her eyes. They no longer looked burdened with the weight of the case, with the weight of her past. It was a refreshing change and really felt like now she could have a life. I'm sure she still thinks about it everyday – it's hard to erase something like that from your mind – but I know it's getting easier now. Almost a year later when we begun having our little heart to hearts over heady alcohol I remember always being surprised that she even spoke to me in such a way. Before her uncle had been arrested she would never have been that open and forthcoming.

She and PJ really did become the dynamic duo after that, if only for a few short months. They worked together perfectly, like pen and paper. She was the cold hard facts side of the bargain and he the human compassionate side. They bounced off each other brilliantly and it made for a very good team. It was hard to see PJ go for so many reasons, and the breaking up of this duo I mention was one at the forefront of it all. Brilliance only lasts a certain amount of time I guess, like an elite athlete retiring from their sport.

But losing PJ Hasham was like losing a brother. Losing part of myself. He is the one colleague, out of so many that I have had, that I've probably worked with the longest. I couldn't deny him the new position though – it was so perfect for him - and sometimes I think that one should only spend a certain amount of time in the country. And I could do nothing to stop him, especially when Garth and Amy seemed so intent on him taking up the position in Melbourne. And they were right, and only encouraging the best for him. But I do miss him. For more than 15 years PJ was something of my sidekick, a mate I would go to with almost everything because he understood so many problems that affected me.

Like when Grace's birthday rolled around. We shared only a handful of birthdays while she was alive really, but to no longer be able to share in a day that celebrated my beautiful wife as the beautiful person she was…well, that cut deep. I don't often cry in front of others, instead preferring to do my grieving and sobbing and hurling things across the room in private, but I couldn't help it that day. And PJ was the one who sat beside me on the kitchen floor of the station and did everything he could think of to make me feel better – even putting his own grievances aside that he felt for Maggie and Jo. Nothing could help of course, I had still lost my Grace, but the fact that someone was trying to make me feel better – cared enough to take the time to show that they cared – really helped. You could rely on PJ like that. He always tried to make you smile.

Show me a smile

Don't be discouraged

Can't remember when

I last saw you laughing

I relied on PJ in a similar way that Kelly relies on me. Except, I suppose because she's a woman, she doesn't hide it like us blokes do. After I saw her at her Dad's funeral that dreadful day and saw how something was different about her – the way she walked, talked, moved, acted – it had all changed the moment her father was killed, I kind of felt an obligation to protect her. I never intended to take over as her father, not at all, but I suppose that that is what I became in her young eyes. And certainly I felt responsible for her after her Dad died, and I wanted her to not feel at all disadvantaged because she had lost a parent. So I took her to the park and the zoo and the corner store for lollies with my girls, and even though I suppose she could've still felt like quite the outsider being the only O'Rourke amongst so many Croydons, I think she appreciated it.

When she grew up and moved away I was disappointed but knew she would always do great things. I continued to send her birthday and Christmas cards, letting her know I was thinking of her, but there was a period of about 4 or so years where I didn't see her at all. And I lost contact with her mother for terrible reasons – never let a friendship go just because you're lazy – and so I wasn't even aware that she had been to the academy. I heard about it in a Christmas newsletter that her mother sent me – the first one in years, and I think she only thought to send it to me because it was that year that Kelly graduated and she knew I would want to know. And I was so immensely proud. Nothing could serve her father's legacy better than her becoming a copper too. He would've been so chuffed, I just know it.

So, I knew she had graduated – top of her class too might I mention…that's her Dad through and through – but never in a million years did I think that out of all the stations in Victoria she would've been posted to that she would be stationed at mine. And like I already mentioned, I wasn't exactly the Uncle Tom she remembered that first day in Mt Thomas, and part of me regrets that. But I know Kelly has such an undying love for everyone that she probably had forgiven me 10 minutes later. That is what's great about her – she can forgive and forget, something I am not so good at.

Months later I somehow just knew that she was running along that train carriage corridor. Call it a sixth sense if you like, but something inside me compelled me to run in that direction and then all of a sudden there she was, a tear stained mess – understandably – and falling into my arms. If her Dad had been alive it would've been his arms she fell into, no question, but I suppose I was the replacement.

Kelly was the kind of person everyone wants to protect actually. From the moment I saw her that day at the funeral probably until the end of time, I will want to protect her. Her colleagues were always the same. Especially Joss. I saw how they snapped at each other and joked and teased, but it was Joss who tried to shield her from the dead body of her best friend. He just wanted to protect her from something she shouldn't have ever had to see. They had already taken on a bit of a brother sister relationship, but that moment only confirmed it. Kelly is lucky to have so many people who care about her – and she deserves it all.

I saw this in a slightly different way with Amy when she took on the gang rape case. I admit I didn't see much of it with a copper's eye because I was seeing it through a stepfather's eyes, but I saw how, through her going head first into the case, she was trying to protect others from things that shouldn't have happened. I saw how she stayed with Bec Cleary for hours on end, reassuring her and comforting her. That's the way real coppers should be. Our job is to serve others, and Amy did that to no end with the gang rape case. And I suppose it only drove her more to resolve the case because she had had the same experience herself, even though we didn't know at the time. She knew how Bec felt and while that could have hindered the investigation, it also helped it a lot. Amy's past had definitely ignited a fire within her that to this day probably still burns. I think that it is what makes her such a hard working, passionate, stop at nothing detective.

Fox and Graham didn't have the best of relationships when he first arrived. I was surprised, as they seemed so similar - secretive, quiet, keep to themselves. But then I realised only too quickly that this was probably the very reason they didn't see eye to eye. They were too alike, and that in itself didn't sit right between them. Fox just couldn't relate to Graham because he reminded her too much of herself. This became a problem for quite some time, but unlike Fox, I never questioned Graham's ability (or his sanity), even if sometimes it seemed like I did. He and I were two of a kind you could say – military background, lifelong scars from tours of duty. But because of this I knew he had it in him to be a good copper. Ex military always does. It's like we've gone that step further than your ordinary cop. That extra mile. We might not have the rank in the police force, but in the military you do things on such a different level that the ranks in the police force just don't compare. You're helping people globally, you're rebuilding lives and homes and you're fighting for peace. Sure, you do that in the coppers too, but it feels so confined and restricted at times. What you do often doesn't reach anywhere past the border of your home state. In the army what you do is on a global scale. I believe my experience has served me well in the police force. One day Graham will understand this too, when and if he can get over the hurdles that his scars constantly bully him to jump over.

By mid 2006 I was honestly surprised that I still had a job. After going through so much – so much that would've dragged anyone else away from this job – I think everyone was surprised that I was still here. But I couldn't leave and I probably never will. Cancer and office politics are things so small in comparison to my own will to do my job that they could never pull me away from being a copper.

It's a pleasure to realise that a lot of my young kids – the ones I've watched grow from devilish little probationaries to sensible and passionate senior constables and sargeants – have begun to possess this same quality. I suppose it comes with time. Jones and Raynor are like that now, and it pleases me to see. You can't deny a lot has happened to those two over the years and throughout it all they have always been together in some way. Always as far away as hovering in the background or as close as sitting beside each other in the patrol car. And while they could never seem to make it work, they share an extraordinary friendship – one I am sure will last the true test of time. They need each other and while they couldn't get along as a couple they also could never survive without each other. They really do depend on each other – probably without them even realising it. I believe this is why Jones tried as hard as he did to convince Raynor to stay when the station was almost closed. She was all set to hightail it off to someplace where she couldn't be reminded of everything that had gone wrong in her life, but then she would've been without the people that knew her and understood her the best. Her friends. And Jones made sure that she knew this before she made any rash decisions. And it worked. Thank goodness. Because Jones would've either been a handful to cope with alone or he would've followed her anywhere she went. I had had to practically hold him back from following Gallagher to Melbourne that day – it would've been double the job to stop him going after Raynor. Raynor means much more to him than Gallagher ever did purely because Raynor and Jones became closer friends for a longer time. Really, when you think about it, Gallagher was part of Jones' life for just 2 short years, if that. To lose Raynor would be to lose some of Jones too. So I am glad she has decided to stay. Perhaps she will now come out of the woodwork and the haze that consumed our lives will now clear.

And Jones being in CI can also only help things. It is the beginning of a new moulding of the flock. Not working so closely with Raynor should allow Jones to focus more and possibly help further with rekindling his fragile friendship with her. And I know Jones can teach Amy a thing or two about my 'police work is people' motto and Amy can begin, after more than 2 years in my town, to mellow a little. And she will mellow. I know she will. It took PJ a few years to, so I cannot expect a person as complex as Amy to mellow and relax in any shorter span of time.

I'm glad that we won the fight to keep our station open. Never could there be a greater bunch of coppers stationed here and everyday is a gift. Nearly 20 bloody years in Mt Thomas. I'll remain here longer than Falcon Price will expect me to because this is my town. I'll die here. But that's ok. Because I couldn't think of a better place to do it.

My station. My flock. Nothing will destroy us.


End file.
